


Starve

by WroughtBetwixt



Series: JohnWard Prompts [25]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eating Disorders, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Food Issues, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Teen Grant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times John tried to get Grant to eat, and one time he succeeded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starve

John looked to Grant while they were both crashed in the living room, watching a movie with way too many explosions; it was noon, and he hadn’t noticed Grant eating breakfast.“I think I’m going to get something. Want a sandwich?”

The seventeen-year-old shook his head. “I’ll make my own later.”

Grant didn’t. Sometimes he’d accept a handful of pretzels or a stick of jerky when John shoved them his way, but John noticed the food wasn’t disappearing quite as fast as one would expect from a man and a growing teenage boy. Maybe it had to do with the drunken confession a couple weeks back; it had become abundantly clear that Grant was like John, in that he didn’t like to seem vulnerable. Give him some space and he’d be fine, right?

*

A week later, John poked his head into Grant’s bedroom. The kid hadn’t been out all day, and was just laying in bed and reading. “I’m going to make some lunch. Hungry?”

“No, sir.” Grant glanced up, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

When John was gone, Grant curled around his pillow and cried. John leaned against the wall, out of sight, listening to the muffled sobs; this wasn’t something he was taught to handle. 

*

“You sure you don’t want any?”

Grant glanced at the bacon and other breakfast stuffs, then ducked his head. He ignored the way his stomach growled; he didn’t see the confirmed suspicion in John’s eyes. “I’m sure.”

When Grant retreated to his room, John sat down with breakfast and flipped open his phone. This was week three. He hadn’t busted the kid out of that hellhole just to watch him starve to death.

*

John set the pizza box on the living room table. “Dinner. Extra cheese, with mushrooms.”

Curled up on the sofa, Grant looked up, his gaze moving from John to the pizza. “For both of us?”

“Well, yeah.” John sprawled out on the other half of the sofa, flipping the box open. It was the kid’s favorite, and it might have been a dirty trick, but he didn’t know what else to do. “I thought since you’ve been doing so good with your studying, we’d splurge.”

“Thank you, sir.” Grant was still staring at the food. “I’m not sure...”

John cut in, his voice quiet. “I think you deserve it, Grant. Go ahead.”

Grant hesitated, looking back to John. John kept his eyes on Grant; his expression was neutral, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Not tonight. It didn’t matter. Grant was too hungry to refuse, and the permission from John somehow lifted some of the burden of choice from Grant’s shoulders. Reaching for the box, Grant took a small slice, nibbling at it. 

“I put in a call to a friend of mine,” John continued, “who works within SHIELD. We want to get your physical training started as soon as possible.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” John leaned back on the sofa. He wasn’t quite sure what words to choose, and he knew he needed to choose carefully. In the end, plain honesty won out. “I know you’ve got a good start with the military school, but the people I work for are a bit more rigorous. She’s going to drop by for a basic assessment next week. It’s very simple. She’ll check your vitals, talk to you about your physical and mental health.”

Grant froze mid-bite. “Mental health?” 

For a moment, John didn’t answer. “I’ve noticed you’ve been having some trouble, since the other night. I’m worried that you haven’t been eating.”

“Oh.” Grant lowered his hands, staring down. When he spoke again, his tone was so hushed that John could barely hear. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for; I’m not angry with you. I care about you, Grant, and I want to make sure you’re okay.” John paused, giving Grant time to let the words sink in. “I said this would be hard. Do you think you can trust me enough to talk to her?”

“Yes, sir.”

John waved at the slice of pizza Grant was still working on. “I don’t expect you to finish that, but it’d make me happy if you could try.”

Grant nodded. They ate in silence, and John flipped on the TV once Grant had finished; John let the kid pick whatever he wanted, some cop show marathon he’d gotten into lately. Ten minutes in and John was explaining various aspects of the science side of the show, in exchange for Grant filling him in on the plot. It was good to see Grant animated, excited about something, and John felt warm when Grant reached for a second slice of pizza. By the time the night drew to a close, Grant had made his way across the sofa, falling asleep on John’s shoulder. There was no need to move, so John didn’t; he curled an arm around Grant and closed his eyes. 

Whatever was going on, Grant was going to be okay. He’d make sure of it.


End file.
